


Now You See It

by seterasilence



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale drags Crowley to a Magic Show, Established Relationship, F/M, Get A Wiggle On Zine, Hemipenis, I'm bad at tags, Magician Aziraphale (Good Omens), NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Sex on a Stage, Sex with Naga Form Crowley, Sex with Snake Form Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seterasilence/pseuds/seterasilence
Summary: Aziraphale can't help volunteering to be a magician's assistant, but when Crowley decides to get up to mischief and they end up with an empty stage, there's not much else to do but make good use of it, now is there?Written for the Get A Wiggle On NSFW Zine
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 74
Collections: Get A Wiggle On Zine





	Now You See It

Satan help any demon forced to endure a magic show.

The sulfuric aftertaste of firecrackers exploding from the magician’s hands gave him a headache. The bar’s dimness was punctuated by bright electric strobe flashes, making his eyes dilate in uncomfortable ways. The neon-colored scarves rolling out of the magician’s sleeve shone with cheap chemical slickness. And the red rose Tim the Tremendous presented to Aziraphale once the angel agreed to be his volunteer magician’s assistant made Crowley squirm.

The angel had dressed to impress—his glittery white dress cutting at the knees, his curls puffed with product, a simple slash of pink coloring his mouth—but Crowley knew the taste of a miracle nudge, how Aziraphale had shot him a blinding fake-surprise smile when the spotlight landed on him when Tim asked for audience participation. Ugh. He hated magic shows.

Crowley groaned. Onstage, Aziraphale delicately stepped into a red coffin-shaped box, his sensible heels somehow taller and more stiletto-shaped than they had been mere moments before. The box shut down on him, and Aziraphale beamed as his head hung out of the slot. Tim the Tremendous wielded a toothed saw above him, gyrating to whatever modern pop constituted as music these days. Crowley hated these retro shows—they weren’t good in the 1920s and they hadn’t gotten any better over the past hundred years. Tim the Tremendous sawed through Aziraphale’s body and Crowley knew the over-enthusiastic grin Aziraphale wore was for Crowley’s benefit more so than the audience seated in the small club, which sold overpriced jello-shots in the back to twenty-somethings thinking this old-school display was culturally ironic. Draw a pencil moustache on the angel and Crowley was transported to a decade ago at a fake Antichrist’s birthday party. Same angelic smile. Same demonic groan.

Aziraphale stepped out of the box with a flourish—astonishingly not sawed in half, who would’ve thought—as Tim the Tremendous gestured him to step into another box, which stood against the wall with a mirror on the front. Lot of boxes happening here, if you thought about it. And yup, the heels were _definitely_ four inches tall now, showing off Aziraphale’s dainty ankles and thick calves. The dress glowed as if heavenly light itself were infused in the sequins. At this point, if Crowley wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d be getting laid tonight, he’d have to grudgingly side with Gabriel about a certain angel’s frivolous use of God’s holy power.

Once, Gabriel might have sent a strongly worded letter, but a demon’s admonishment would look a lot different than an archangel’s. It would involve a spanking, his cock punishing the angel in rough thrusts, maybe holding the angel in place with a hand in his hair and another wrapped around his collared throat as Crowley gave Aziraphale a good seeing to. Crowley had a list of things he could do to that bratty angel of his.

Or, maybe, he could simply cause some mischief.

A slow smile spread across Crowley’s lips as he scrunched down in his chair. Scales rippled across his body alongside the sharp smoky taste of occult power. It had been too long since he’d gotten into trouble. That was what happened when you shacked up with an angel with a penchant for sucking on popsicles and then sucking on cocks, you simply don’t have the brain function to get out anymore.

“Now you see her,” Tim the Tremendous said, with a grin to the audience. He closed the mirrored door on Aziraphale’s face. “Now you don’t!”

Crowley snapped his fingers.

Tim the Tremendous opened the door and screeched. Crowley tumbled out of the box as a huge red-bellied snake, arching and hissing. Tim fainted dead away. The audience screamed and rushed like a herd of sheep toward the doors. Booze bottles crashed on the bar and slick razzle-dazzle-flavored jello covered the floor. Tim’s manager lunged for the magician and hauled his client offstage. Soon, the whole club was cleared of any human. Silence descended.

Crowley cackled.

“Was that necessary?”

Crowley coiled upwards and watched Aziraphale emerge from a hidden panel, hands sharp on his hips, mouth pursed into a scowl. “Just a little fun, angel,” he hissed, and slithered around Aziraphale’s legs as an apology, rubbed against the angel’s bare skin. He squeezed and undulated along Aziraphale’s knees, scrunching up the glittery skirt of the dress. “Now you see me, now you don’t.” He tucked his diamond-shaped face between Aziraphale’s thighs.

“You’re impossible.” Aziraphale huffed a laugh and Crowley felt fingers trail down his scales. He shivered as a bolt of desire rushed through him, filling him with the image of an Aziraphale pinned down under his looping coils, the dress ripped down the middle, Crowley’s tail lodged somewhere indecent while the angel apologized for being bad, for flirting with Tim to get a rise out of him, and _Crowley please, I’ll do anything, anything..._

Crowley uncoiled himself and slithered over to an elaborately decorated table near the front of the stage where the magician had planned to do his next trick. It was still new, this thing between them, padded with quiet uncertain questions and requests. Aziraphale tended to commit fully to the act of lovemaking, his wants sometimes triggering Crowley’s earned instincts from Hell to shrink and hide and lash out. Aziraphale hadn’t seen Crowley red-bellied and crawling since, oh, Eden. What was he thinking, changing into a snake, reminding the angel that he took a serpent to his bed each night?

“What other magic tricks can you do?” Aziraphale asked quietly, as if sensing Crowley’s pull-back, stepping out of the box fully, his heels clicking on the shiny performance floor. An inquisitive look slid across his face. His mouth was painted a red popular from the 1950s.

“Lots of things,” Crowley hissed, and let his top half transform back into male, his lower half a flickering tail that curled instinctively around the angel. He hopped up on the table, balanced at the edge. “Fit for the freak show now, aren’t I? Did you ever see any of them? I participated in one once, made sure I brewed fear and terror for Hell.”

“Terrible things these humans used to do,” Aziraphale said, sliding closer, his hand bracketing where Crowley’s hip was, now a transition of smooth black scales and flesh.

“Come view the terrifying, horrific snake-man! Astound your senses! Be shocked and amazed,” Crowley said, his tail quivering. The scent of angelic focus laid heavy on his tongue. Heat pooled in his belly. Now that he could have Aziraphale, that’s all he wanted—morning, noon, and night. He wanted soft Aziraphale in the mornings, cuddled beside him as the sunlight broke over the horizon. He wanted fussy Aziraphale in the afternoon, when the angel complained and sulked because his reading had been interrupted and his tea was cold. He wanted a desperate Aziraphale in the evening, the angel whimpering on his knees, obeying every instruction Crowley gave. Crowley’s devotion wasn’t befitting for a demon, but now that he was allowed to express his love openly, it wouldn’t be bottled back up again. 

“Pish posh,” Aziraphale said, stepping closer. “You’re beautiful and you know it.”

Love clogged Crowley’s throat. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. Aziraphale’s mascara-darkened lashes swept down, covering the sudden want coloring his blue eyes. “I recall that, you know. How you protected the poor dears in servitude at the circus by terrorizing the investors, instead.”

“Wasn’t protecting anyone. Was creating the breeding grounds for corporate greed and paranoia,” Crowley shot back, but it was reflexive. He often forgot he didn’t have to justify his actions anymore.

“Of course,” Aziraphale said softly. “Just like you did tonight. Fear and terror.”

“That was pure fun.” Crowley wagged a black-tipped claw in Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale leaned closer and kissed Crowley gently, his mouth soft and open. “I must admit my disappointment for not being able to thwart you properly. I’ve failed my job yet again.”

“You could thwart me now,” Crowley suggested. “Make up for lost time.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement and deepened the kiss. Crowley’s tail coiled tighter around the angel. Aziraphale tilted Crowley’s jaw to the side, kissing down his neck. Crowley shivered, felt that heat in his belly strike his heart. He was incredibly hard, the lights bathing Aziraphale in bright technicolor so it felt as if he could see the divine radiance surrounding the angel like an aura. “Come to think of it, you really are bad at your job,” he whispered.

“So you’ve said.” Aziraphale pushed Crowley back further on the table, kissed him open and messy, and then clambered on top of him, pulling his skirts back and settling on top. “I have a few magic tricks of my own,” he said, his tongue swiping across his lower lip. He gazed down the length of their bodies and a secret smile curved his lips. “Although I had no idea you’d have two cocks.”

“Serpent,” Crowley said as a way of explanation, fighting the dazed wonderment fogging his mind. Aziraphale had given him a gift—the gift of being seen, human or snake. Aziraphale stroked one cock with his hand while letting the smooth wetness of his cunt slide along the other.

“Now you see it,” Aziraphale said, sliding up and down on the head, “Now you don’t.”

Crowley’s head tipped back, his eyes staring unblinking at the spotlights as if they were stars, feeling the hot clench as Aziraphale took him all the way inside. His second cock nestled against the warmth of Aziraphale’s skin, nudging to breech inside his cunt as well, but the angel was too tight. Instincts tore through him—the desire to thrust confused around the instinct to clench and undulate, the desperate need to sink his teeth into Aziraphale’s neck and hold him while Crowley filled him up. Yes, fill the angel up until Crowley was wrung dry, switch cocks and let the angel ride him until Crowley became an empty, hollow thing. Let everything Crowley had be given to the angel.

A soft whimper emerged from Aziraphale’s mouth. Blonde curls stuck to his neck, one caught on the red lipstick moue of his mouth. His hands clenched Crowley’s shoulders. Sweat beaded along his forehead. Crowley shifted. "I know you can do it," he whispered, stretching Aziraphale until both cocks were stuffed up inside the angel. "You're always indulging yourself for me. Prove you can do this for me, too."

Aziraphale trembled, head thrown back as Crowley pressed in inch by agonizing inch. "I'm trying," he said, and then with a pout, "You're pushy."

"As I should be, angel." Crowley's hips bucked up sharply, no longer easing inside Aziraphale, but instead making demands, creating a space for himself. "But perhaps I should stop right now. Leave you wet and wanting onstage, make you wait until we're home and you prove to me just how much you love it when I push." 

Aziraphale arched in response, his moan echoing throughout the club. Inch by inch, Aziraphale continued to sheathe Crowley inside him. Crowley watched in awe, loving as his cocks slowly disappeared inside that wet clutch.

“You like that?” Crowley said, breathless. “Getting fucked on stage?”

“No one’s here,” Aziraphale said, biting down on another moan. “No one can see.”

Crowley shifted closer, let the loop of his tail brace against Aziraphale’s spine as he thrust up. “Too bright to tell, isn’t it, angel? They could be out there, watching you take not one, but two cocks up that celestial cunt.” He positioned Aziraphale with demanding hands and rocked the angel down, widening him more. So tight.

“I can take it.” Aziraphale let out a breathy gasp, a blush coloring his cheeks. His dress slipped off a shoulder, letting one breast spill out. The soft spongy resistance of his cunt surrounded Crowley, and Crowley paused to let Aziraphale breathe as he took Crowley’s full girth, before helping the angel ease up and then shift down on him again.

“You don’t care that anyone’s watching anymore, do you?” Crowley asked, meaning more than this dalliance, more than this desire expressed on stage. Crowley leaned forward, put his mouth on Aziraphale’s neck and felt the soft flesh part under his teeth. His hips snapped as he fucked up into the angel, holding him steady and _there._ The lights warmed his back as he curled around Aziraphale, let Aziraphale writhe above him.

“I don’t,” Aziraphale cried out, his inner walls convulsing, milking Crowley as he came. “I don’t. I love you and I want you always. Let them look. _Let them look.”_

Yes, let them look. Too long they’d kept to the shadows, hidden from sight, scared to be seen together. A striking ferocity filled Crowley, an unbreakable devotion finally having room to breathe and grow. _Now you see them,_ he thought. _Now you see us._


End file.
